


Take It All Back

by 68legs



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/68legs/pseuds/68legs
Summary: Wheatley gets a second chance to get it right. An ongoing, indefinite writing exercise. Updates Thursdays.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 67





	1. The Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks: my friends on discord for encouraging me to post and helping me name it, moraith for beta reading, 15.ai for being Cool, and you for reading :*

"I wish I could take it all back."

"Do you mean that?"

Wheatley isn’t sure where the voice came from. It's not Space's chatter crackling across the shortwave-- There's a strange anonymous vagueness to it, as if the words appeared fully formed in his language processor without any input at all. He swivels in his casing and scans the stars, trying to find the voice's source. 

"Hello?"

“Pluto.” Space replies, somersaulting slowly past his field of vision. “Pluto. Pluto. Pluto. Neptune.”

“Right, okay--”

The voice returns. "Do you mean that? If you could take back what you did to her, would you?"

"I-- Yeah, I would." Wheatley replies. "I really do mean it. Honestly." His optic slides to the side in remorse and self consciousness. The voice seems to have come from inside him-- maybe it's his conscience, louder and clearer without anything to drown it out. "If I had my way I'd have never gone through with the core transfer. We'd have found another way to escape."

"Granted."

"What?"

And then he's suspended in a dark place above a steel catwalk, staring at a closed door.


	2. The Courtesy Call

The first thing he notices is the gravity. It’s subtle, but his components aren’t floating around inside him anymore. There’s a gentle, familiar pressure where the port on his back meets the management rail, slightly stronger towards the top. He turns to get his bearings-- he’s hanging between two rows of extended relaxation chambers. He’s in front of a particular door. There’s a little orange light above its frame, indicating that the cryogenic suspension is inactive and the occupant is awake. Neither Space nor  _ space  _ are anywhere to be seen. 

He’s been here before. 

“Hello?”

There’s a rustle of activity inside the room. Wheatley’s cooling fans quicken until he can feel them making his casing vibrate. He knows what’s coming and he's not ready for it, but it  _ already happened.  _

She opens the door. Her eyes are the way they were when they met-- too wide, too pale, almost unseeing like the eyes of some kind of android. She looks dazed, and her olive skin has a plasticky sheen to it from suspension. She’s just staring at him mutely with those wide, pale eyes. 

He knows what he wants to say but his vocal synthesis matrix isn't responding. It's just as well, Lord only knows if she understands him anyway. 

“Please prepare for emergency evacuation.” The intercom supplies. 

"Right, okay, we need to go." Wheatley says decisively, sliding past the human and up into the ceiling. "Um, you might want to hold on to something. Just a second."

The suspension chamber shudders beneath him as the clamps engage, and then again as it slides out of its frame and into the bottomless void of the Relaxation Vault, suspended in the grip of an enormous mechanical crane. Wheatley dedicates his processing power entirely to the delicate task of maneuvering the human's crate through the maze of extended relaxation chambers. 

The way he sees it, as he guides her between two towering stacks of test subject storage, there are two options-- either he's somehow managed to travel back in time, or he's seen the future. Or he's seen  _ a _ future. What if everything he thought had happened was some kind of glitch in his anticipatory situation visualization systems--

The crate gives a great shudder and groan of metal on metal as it collides with another room, knocking plaster off the walls into the abyss. 

"AH!" Wheatley yelps. "Sorry! Sorry, my fault, I wasn't watching."  _ Focus,  _ he chides himself. "Are you okay?" She won't answer, of course, but it feels strange not to ask. Actually-- "Do you speak? Because I've just had a very strange experience and I don't want to take anything for granted--"

The wail of a siren cuts him off, punctuated by a metallic shriek as he smashes into another chamber. He forgot how bloody densely packed these things were, like sardines in a tin. He doesn't see how anyone's expected to squeeze through it without casualties. 

"Reactor core safeguards are now nonfunctional." The announcer chirps. "Please prepare for reactor core meltdown."

"Ugh, no, I'll ask later, this is a bad time." Wheatley groans, mostly to himself. "Just-- give a shout if you fall out of the chamber, or something." Though knowing her, plus the long-fall braces, she'd be fine. The reminder of the last time she fell down an abyss makes his gyroscopic sensor give a nauseating lurch.  _ Don't think about it.  _

He directs his attention to the blocky letters on the wall ahead, rendered in peeling yellow paint. 

"Oh, I remember this!" He crows, "This isn't a docking station! You'd think so, given the-- never mind, it's not important. I-I think we need to go underneath it. Let me just let us down gently…"

Carefully, he lowers the crane, letting out more slack in the cables suspending them from the ceiling. 

And the crate plummets. 


	3. Seeking

The impact of the crate's sudden stop as the cables run out of slack nearly jolts Wheatley off the rail and cuts his scream short. Seconds later, a new extension of rail joins the dead end over the room with a satisfying 'ker-chunk' sound. Dock successful. 

"Ugh…"

Wheatley rolls sluggishly in his shell, checking for serious damages. The worst of it seems to be a set of strained pistons. They'll recalibrate eventually. They’ll just ache for a while. 

"Sorry," he calls down to the human, "I miscalculated that. Are you okay?"

Silence. Of course. He slides back into her room, nudging a loose ceiling panel out of the way. 

She's standing on a section of the remaining floor, unharmed as far as he can tell, just staring at him. She always just  _ stared.  _ He finds himself avoiding her gaze by studying the carpet. 

"You don't…  _ remember _ , do you?"

He thinks he catches the barest inward twitch of her eyebrows. 

"I mean, does any of this seem familiar--" He swivels from side to side, agitated. "No, stupid question, I don't know why I bothered to ask. Never mind." 

He slides along the rail, into the dilapidated space that serves as the testing track’s entryway. “Come on, this way. The portal device should be around here.”

She follows him. It's the first active decision he's seen her make since she opened the door. 

“So just… keep an eye out for it, yeah? It’s black and white and it’s small enough to carry. You’ll know it when you see it. I think it should be a few chambers in.”

The door to the first test chamber automatically opens for her. He follows the rail alongside it, half-listening to the automated announcement system drone, muffled by the walls. The elevator on the other side of the test activates before Wheatley can so much as open a panel to check on her. Good. He catches up with her while she’s descending, keeping pace with the small, tube-shaped elevator car.

“Listen, um... “ She’s looking at him. He keeps his eye on the spotlight in the elevator car’s ceiling, studying the way it filters in and out of visibility as the lift moves, peeking through loose cables and foliage.

“I, uh-- I don’t want to make any assumptions about your mental state, but this has got to be a lot, doesn’t it? I mean-- everyone you know is almost certainly dead. You're the last living human on the facility grounds that I know of. And I-- I've been vague. Um, impatient, as well. Bossy, even, and-- what I'm trying to say is, I'm going to see you through this, okay? I'm on your side. So-- you’ve got me, at least."

The elevator descends out of view, leaving him alone again.


	4. Team Effort

The next test takes a little longer. Wheatley briefly tries to remember if there were any patterns in how long it took her to complete  _ his _ tests, but the very thought makes him feel contaminated and he tries to think of something else. 

He can't bring himself to check on her. It's impossible to say if she remembers him. Surely it's a good sign that she hasn't pried him off his rail and dropped him into the abyss? It would serve him right. Maybe, he realizes with a sickening spark of his wiring, she's waiting for the moment just before they escape to bring it all crashing down-- the way he did. 

_ Be better this time.  _ He tells himself.  _ Don't let her do all the work.  _ He knows the portal gun is somewhere below the third test. He'll find it for her! There's no time to lose- the elevator car is sliding down the tube. Before it stops to pick her up, Wheatley zips along the rail and out of sight. 

Wheatley finds his way to a dark, narrow cavern, half-flooded with brown water. She's bound to appreciate him tracking the portal gun down so she can spend as little time as possible down here wading through the muck and breathing in mildew. Someone's scrawled arrows across a set of panels, pointing towards an opening up ahead that reveals a set of grimy panels. The scratchy lines make him uneasy. The closer he gets the less deniable it becomes-- the panels aren't just dirty, they're covered with graffiti of cubes, machines, stick figures in labcoats, and  _ her.  _

Wheatley thinks, with a sickly rush of panic, that the figures scrawled on the walls-- the shrieking face, the figure poised primly on her leg braces with her face turned away --  _ can't _ be her. He's never so much as seen her open her mouth, let alone  _ scream, _ and that one's dressed in a full orange jumpsuit, but she wears hers with the top knotted around her waist, and the leg braces are different…

He turns, and there's another painting that towers over the others, shadows from the leaves and wreckage overhead falling across her face. Wheatley squints, tilting his optic and instinctively trying to periscope it forward for a better look, only for his damaged pistons to whine in protest. No matter how he looks at it, he can't get the figure's face to stop glaring down at him with a stern, judgmental frown. 

There's a sound behind him of something breaking, then a splash. He remembers this part. She's caught up to him. 

"Over here, partner!" He calls, feeling redundant and absurd, "I found the portal gun!"

She comes sloshing through the water. When she steps into the circle, she slows and then stops, looking at each painting in turn. Her gaze lingers on the biggest mural, looming over them both. 

Wheatley knows how stupid he sounds, but he can't stop himself from saying something, anything to cut the silence as she stares up at herself. 

"Looks a bit like you, doesn't it?" He says over her shoulder, "Maybe a cousin or something?"

_ For God's sake, stop bringing up her dead family! _

"I mean, you look good. In comparison. Very… lively. I-I think the, uh, the white brings out your eyes." 

She glances up at him, unreadable. This is turning out to be harder than he thought. He wanted to go back to be a better partner, a decent friend, and here he is, only being around her makes his circuits feel like they're melting. Why doesn't getting a chance to fix everything feel better than brooding in space? 

"Portal device is up the stairs," he mumbles, jerking his optic to indicate it as he retreats along the rail. "Meet you up ahead."


	5. The End Of The Rail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! It's been a bit of a week. Thank you for bearing with me.

Wheatley realizes, once he's put enough distance between himself and her, that he doesn't know where they're going. She has the portal gun. Now what? They can't just follow his old plan. It got him stranded in space, and her-- who knows what happened to her? What are they going to do, fire blindly upwards and hope they hit something below the ozone layer?

What if he can't change anything? What if this is some kind of karmic hell? What if he's programmed to make the same mistakes over again, doom himself and her...

What if it isn't? What if he really did go back, or see the future, and he has some way of changing what happened-- what could happen-- if that's true, if it even could be true, doesn't he have to try?

Not that she needs him. Maybe he should just stay out of her way and stop reminding her that everyone she ever knew is dead. He can just watch her escape by herself and-- wait. If she escapes without him, he's going to burn up in a nuclear fireball. He needs her. That's an ugly, familiar feeling-- helplessness. And maybe it's selfish-- maybe he's just slowing her down. 

He's reached the end of his rail. 

Wheatley lets out a wry, defeated laugh. This is the part where he thought he was going to die and she let him fall. He was so angry, the shock of hitting the tiles replaying itself again and again in his memory banks. It all seems so inconsequential now. No more than he deserves. 

There's a mechanical whirr behind him. He turns, and there she is, stepping through the door. 

"Hey." He says, tracking her as she moves through the portal into the room with him. "I-I need to talk to you. The way I see it, we have two options. Option A-- that's my old plan-- we go through  _ her _ chamber-- the important thing is that when she's awake and running things, everything- she can handle the nuclear whatever. So that gives us time. On the other hand, if we avoid her, she's not around trying to kill us, but we don't know how long we have until the reactor melts down and takes us with it. So we can either deal with-- with her, and rest easy with regard to nuclear annihilation, or the other way around. Okay? Does that make sense?"

She just stares at him. 

"Okay, um… maybe I do owe you an explanation. I, uh-- I've been here before. I mean, I've-- I've woken you up and we've tried to escape. Stay with me. We went through there, and woke  _ her _ up, and I-I transferred into her core, and then it all went a bit pear-shaped and I-- I  _ really _ don't want a repeat of that. I doubt you do either. Or would, if you remembered. Uh- anyway, all that ended up with me stranded in space, and I thought to myself about how much I wanted to go back and do it better, and-- and somehow I  _ did.  _ I did go back. And I met you again, and now we're here. Okay? And you- you're looking at me like I'm crazy, but I can just- I can just tell you what I remember, alright? And I can't prove anything to you because-- I mean, what am I going to do, guess the lottery numbers?"

"Anyway. My point is-- my points are-- one: I remember what didn't work last time. Take that as you will. Two: We can either wake her up and let her deal with the reactor but then we have to deal with her, or we don't do that and risk blowing up with the rest of this place when it goes critical. Okay?"

She blinks at him. 

"...So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to drop off this rail, and-- and if you want to wake her up, put me on that stick in the wall, I'll open the path. If you want to try and find another way, carry me through the door."

But she doesn't need him.

Wheatley jerks back along the rail. "On- on second thought, um, it's just occurred to me that you-- you might not pick me up. And then I'd be stuck on the floor. You could easily just go on without me and, and I'll be trapped here until everything melts down unless I get lucky with that bird again."

But that's not how it happened. Wheatley focuses his gaze on the human's inscrutable, steely eyes. 

"But you-- you picked me up before. I remember that. And this is-- I-I guess this is how I prove it. So-- Option A: Wake her up. Option B: We go through the door and hope we find a way out before we’re consumed in a nuclear fireball. Option C: Leave me here to die horribly. I-I guess that’s more of a modifier for the previous-- you get it. Your call." 

Before he can change his mind, Wheatley drops from the rail. 


	6. Travelogue

The shock of hitting the ground rattles Wheatley's optic in its casing. The stun of pain gives way to a moment of white-hot panic before the portal gun’s localized antigravity well scoops him up, bringing him eye to eye with the human. This weightlessness isn't like space-- it's warm, almost alive, a basket of crackling energy cradling his chassis. 

"Oh!" Wheatley yelps, surprising himself with the relieved laugh in his voice. "Look at that, you- you picked me up. Thank you."

She swings him around, putting him in range of the interface port's clamps, which automatically secure onto his handles and draw him back onto the plug. 

"Okay." Wheatley shuts his optic, bracing himself. "We're waking her up. Got it. Let me just open the door…"

His lids slide open. She's staring at him again. His gaze darts sideways. 

"I, um-- could you turn around? I-I know it's ridiculous, but I can't- I can't focus when you're looking at me like that."

She faces the wall and his pistons go slack in relief. The panel swings open, giving way to the dark catwalk on the other side, and the interface port releases him. 

Before he can panic about being on the floor and remind her that she needs him to wake up GLaDOS, let alone remember that she probably doesn't and panic about that, the human picks him up again. With her eyes focused forward, past him, he finds they're not quite as unsettling. This feels right. They're a proper team again.

"Okay! We're doing this."

She steps out onto the catwalk. 

"So, um-- I-I don't know if you remember." Wheatley rolls in his shell, a gesture that's more casual than he feels. "I mean, remember what I do. From your perspective, obviously. Since you've given no indication one way or the other. Which is fine! I mean, you're not obligated to- to share that sort of thing if you don't feel like it. I just…"

She passes into an airlock. The door shuts behind her. She doesn't look down. 

"Just in case it applies, I want you to know I'm sorry. For treating-- whichever version of you that was, the way I did. I don't know what came over me. Pushing you around, trying to kill you-- that  _ has _ to be something wired into the system."

"... _ my _ system." He clarifies as the door opens and she makes her way down the path. "I-I've been thinking about what she said. About, um, what she said I  _ am.  _ And, uh-- you know, maybe it's for the best that you're not listening to me. I just-- thank you. For taking me with you."

She gives no indication of having heard him, and he tries to convince himself that that's a good thing. His eye darts to the bottomless void below them.

"And for not, you know, pitching me over the edge of the catwalk, which you could very easily do. I do appreciate that. I promise you I'll try my hardest not to get in the way this time."

A small, lilting voice calls out from ahead. 

"Hello?"

"Oh, right." Wheatley's eye slides shut. Even after everything, sentry turrets still send chills up his circuits. "Yes, hello. --Keep moving."

The human strolls past.

"Orpheus descended into the land of the dead to rescue his beloved." The turret calls after them. "The gods permitted them to leave, on the condition that Orpheus not look back until they reached the surface."

"I'm sure."

"When the sun touched his face, Orpheus lost his nerve and checked to see if his lover still followed, trapping her in the underworld forevermore."

Wheatley indulges in a shudder as they turn the corner, leaving the turret behind. "Creepy." He remarks, raising his lower eyelid at the human in an uncertain smile. There's nothing wrong with a little solidarity, right? Maybe behind that blank, stony expression, their monotone chatter and staring red eyes unsettle her too. 

But probably not. 


	7. Her

"And… here it is." Wheatley says, as the human places him in the access port below GLaDOS' chamber. "For real." He looks up, past the switches lining the walls. "How did I do this last time? Hmm. Accessing memory files… If I were me, but I didn't know what I do… I'd probably start by turning on the lights."

The narrow, tube-shaped channel illuminates. 

"Okay. And then--"

The small platform turns. It's a simple motion that shouldn't be as disorienting as it is. Then it ascends, flipping switches as it goes, and Wheatley's gyroscopic sensor rolls uncomfortably as the opening at the top of the channel draws closer. 

"Alright, here's how this is going to go," he stammers, "I remember this. Parts of it, anyway. She's going to grab us, and it'll look like the end, but we're going to be fine! Don't worry! I'll find you, and we'll get out of here!" 

If the human's afraid, she doesn't show it. Wheatley tries to take comfort in that.

"Power up initiated." The intercom announces as the platform emerges into GLaDOS' overgrown chamber. Wheatley shuts his eye, trying to reboot his wobbling gyroscope and ignore the sound of broken metal scraping against the ground behind him. 

"It's going to be okay." He repeats. "We'll be fine. I-I want you to know I'm not going to sell you out, I'm not going to try and appeal to her- both being robots and I haven't murdered her or anything--"

"Power up complete."

Maybe diplomacy is in order. Wheatley cracks his optic open and peers out. The access port keeps him facing the human, unable to see GLaDOS. "Hello?"

"Oh." She says, sending a chill down his circuits. "It's  _ you. _ It's been a long time."

Wheatley's optic contracts sharply. She remembers him? 

"How have you been?" GLaDOS continues, deadly calm. 

"Well, I--"

"I've been really busy being dead. You know. After you  _ murdered me." _

"Wait, I didn't--" Oh, right. The human. She's talking to the human. 

A metal pincer descends around his shell and clamps down.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Some function in the back of Wheatley's code knows how pathetic he sounds, begging as her claw tears him out of the port and holds him in the air. "I'm not trying to say you shouldn't be angry, please just--"

Her grasp tightens and his vocal emulator dies. His body goes numb. He looks at the human dangling by the back of her shirt with her wide eyes fixed on GLaDOS and wishes, with a bizarre stab of righteous anger that he wants to blame on a broken component, that she would just remind him that he said it was going to be okay. 

Something behind his eye  _ crunches _ and her image goes grey, then black. 


	8. Here's To Taking What You Came For

Wheatley judders back online, startling a large black bird that jumps off his upper handle and flies away. He's back on his management rail. Everything's the way it was before she crushed him. His recent memory files are full of junk-- the result of his processor trying to make sense of garbage data from broken circuitry smashed in on itself. 

He was in a dusty room, looking down from the ceiling at a stasis pod, instructing a jumpsuited human on how to keep the occupant alive-- and then the pod crumpled violently inward, crushing its contents as it imploded. And then there was a bird-- a puffy sort of bird like an enormous robin, no, more like a chicken, fat with warm orange feathers, that landed beside him and extended its wing over his shell. He couldn't see anything through the soft feathers, couldn't hear anything but the hum of the bird's mechanisms inside its chest. It was nice. He doesn't remember the last time he felt so at peace. 

There was a sound like a gunshot inside his core, so loud it hurt, rattling his panels. The bird cooed, as if to quiet him, ruffling its feathers, and then another burst of pain came, like someone banging on the inside of his optic with a brick. Wheatley rolled in his shell, trying to dislodge whatever it was, trying to escape from it. The motion agitated the bird, flapping its wings, and it brought its hard pointed beak down against his optic, peck, peck,  _ crack-- _

And then he'd woken up. So that's that sorted-- new memory files tidied up into the junk drawer. Time to get going. He needs to find the human if she hasn't escaped already. 

(And if she has? Well, there's no way to know but to find out. GLaDOS will keep the facility from exploding, he has all the time in the world. And maybe even if he never finds her, it's not so bad here. He's a pariah, but it's not  _ space _ and it's not a fireball, and he doesn't even know what's on the surface anyway,  _ why do we have to leave right now?) _

The thought jars him. It's not helping, all this thinking. Why would it? When has it ever? 

_ Just find her.  _ "Just find her, no more thinking." Wheatley mumbles to himself. "Don't think about it. Don't think about it."

He finds her in a test chamber, where he expected her to be, on the other side of a partially destroyed wall. He moves a panel aside to peek in and she portals herself over, the harsh teal glow from a line of indicator lights falling on her hair. 

"Uh, hi." Wheatley ventures. "You're looking well. Considering the circumstances. I'm- I'm fine, in case you were wondering."

A piston spasms, yanking his optic up sideways and throwing sparks. Not exactly good as new, then. It's his own fault. He's the one who woke up GLaDOS-- because the human chose to-- because he gave her the option. He's lucky his mistake didn't get her hurt. 

"Okay, so, I figure it's probably best for both of us if you call the shots from here on out, yeah? And I'll-- I can offer advisement, you know, moral support. Open any doors you need open, turn on any lights…"

"That's very thoughtful of you." GlaDOS says dryly, "But I think I've got it covered."

Wheatley throws another panel open. "We're leaving! We're leaving! Go!"

The human scurries through, joining him on the catwalk. He keeps pace with her, looking out ahead for turrets. 

"Okay, um, sorry, that might have been my bad. Forgot all about her. We- we've done this before-- this way, careful-- I realize I've sort of forced your hand, here. I apologize. Should have just-- should have just opened the door for you and let you decide yourself. Shouldn't have bossed you around."

The rail splits away from the catwalk. He loses sight of her behind a wall of closing panels. Gunfire rings out. 

"Be careful!" He yelps, then catches himself. "If-- if you want to! Sorry again. Entirely your choice."

A blue portal blooms open on the wall. The human tumbles through it, landing on her boots, and looks at him with those inscrutable eyes.

"No judgements, I'm just glad to see whatever strategy you decided on kept you in one piece. This--" 

Wheatley finally stops himself short, sliding back along the rail to beckon her forward. "You lead the way."


	9. Pilot Light

"It's funny you led us back here." Wheatley murmurs, sliding along the catwalk with the human towards the turret factory. "I mean, this is where we went after we escaped last time. I guess it just goes to show that you know what you're doing."

That's an interesting thought. His optic shields twitch inward. 

"This is where  _ I  _ brought you. So either we're both right, or…"

One by one, the lights go out. 

"Oh, yeah, I remember this." Wheatley mumbles into the dark. "Don't worry. You probably didn't even need the flashlight on, did you? I'll bet it was just annoying, shining in your face and everything."

He waits for the sound of her boots clanking against the floor. It doesn't come.

"...That said, um-- For my own sake, you know, for safety, I'll go ahead and switch it on."

He flicks the flashlight on. She's staring right at him, her features stark and pale in the harsh light. He jolts back, then remembers to look away. 

"Ah! Sorry. I didn't-- Sorry." He slides past her. "I'll meet you up ahead." 

In the corner of his eye she follows him, staying in the light. 

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't make much sense for you to wait for me to get gone, would it? In terms of, you know, efficiency."

He aims the light away from her. The steady  _ clank-clank  _ of her boots should be comforting, but down here in the dark, it just makes his circuits itch. 

"There's a jump coming up. Not that you need me to warn you. Just makes me feel better, hearing myself talk." He rolls his optic in its casing. "I can stop. Talking, I mean, if you want me to. Jump once for-- Ah, I'm ordering you around again. It's inconvenient, having to stop your forward motion to communicate with me. I understand that. And we are on a bit of a time crunch now. Maybe later, when we've escaped, and we've got nothing better to do, we can establish some way to communicate. Assuming you-- you know-- still want to associate with me. No obligation there.

"I-- I have been wondering, you know, when I woke you up and I started running you through cognition tests, you seemed happy enough to jump then. I guess things have changed. And that's fine. I mean, I know I can't-- I can't ask for much from you. I mean I  _ can _ but I'm not--" 

Wheatley snaps his optic shut and shakes it. "I just wish you would make it easier for me to help you. You know? Not that you need my help, I just-- little things. Like whether or not to talk. Little quality-of-life things that don't matter, and I  _ know _ they don't matter--"

There's a deafening metallic _bang_. Wheatley jerks back, flailing the light. He can't see what happened-- the human looks unhurt, standing next to a metal column that reaches up into the dark--

"What-- Was that you?"

As he watches her hop over the gap onto the conveyor belt full of turret parts, something clicks. 

"You-- you need the light, don't you?"

That didn't come out right. Wheatley's gyroscope lurches as he aims the beam of light at the robot guts strewn ahead of her. "I mean, you don't  _ need  _ it. It's a courtesy."

He lights up the next platform and follows her over, then up the stairs. 

"Speaking of, thank you. For-- for, you know. Making yourself heard. I do appreciate that, you know, making the effort."

At such a steep overhead angle, he can't see her eyes.


	10. Tether

Things proceed much as Wheatley remembers them. They sabotage the turret production line-- or rather, she sabotages it while he observes-- and then the neurotoxin generator. The implosion shatters the neurotoxin distribution pipe, and the vacuum sucks them into the tube. Air rushes past his shell. His gyroscope whirls end-over-end. And then it goes dark. 

And now he's floating in front of her portal gun again, moving through the hallway that runs past GLaDOS' lair, his shell trembling with the vibration of his cooling fans like he's-- well, like he's just been sailing through the vacuum tubes. It's an odd sensation, systems processing the aftermath of stimulus recorded only as a blank hole in his memory. Maybe it's a side effect of being crushed twice.

Wheatley blinks, rotating in place to get his bearings. There's a door ahead, a wall on one side, and an expansive gap on the other. 

"What-- what happened?"

The human's wide, focused eyes dart down at him. He instinctively looks away, at a single white panel floating out in the void, glowing in the dark like a ceiling light. The way the portal gun's gravity well shifts around him tells Wheatley she's following his gaze with her aim. 

"Weird." He murmurs. 

She lowers the gun and drops him on the floor. Panic floods him. The reminder that she doesn't owe him anything hardly tempers it. 

"Wait, what are you doing? I'm sorry! I didn't mean you!"

She opens a portal on the distant panel, then another on the near wall. Then she picks him up, and his distress evaporates in the gentle hum of the antigravity well.

"O-oh. You're just having a look. I'm-- I'm sorry about that little outburst. Not that it would be warranted even if you did decide to leave me here. I mean, it's not my preference, but there's no reason to get hysterical about it, is there? I mean, what's that going to solve? Um-- although, to be clear, I did mean that- that I was sorry and I-I didn't mean to call you-- Huh?"

She's pushing him against the door. 

"Oh-- oh! I can get this open. Absolutely. One moment."

She plugs him into the wall and turns around before he can say a word. The door opens, she picks him up again, and they keep moving. He wonders how she got through it last time. 

"So, what's your plan?" He asks, "I mean, I know you won't answer. Just that last time we did this, um-- I-I suppose I didn't really think through it. Didn't realize the neurotoxin tubes would suck us in like that. And then there were the tubes, and…"

His eye drifts back to her. He can't help but think that with all her power, surely if there had been any part of his plan she'd disagreed with, she wouldn't have participated in it. 

Well, she made it clear in the end. 

"...anyway, um-- thank you. Is what I'm trying to say. For taking me with you. I know you don't have to. I'm trying not to worry too much about where we're going, at least not out loud. It's just that this is the part where we, um-- where I took over. And that didn't end well."

He cycles his cooling fans. They keep locking up, making his components run hot until he remembers to reboot them manually. 

"So I'm sorry if I'm-- if I'm nervous."

She stops. She sets him down again. Panic spikes-- what did he say  _ now? _

But then she sits beside him, legs folded, leaning back against the wall. She rests the portal gun in her lap so she has a hand free to hold him in place where he rests against the side of her leg.

It occurs to Wheatley, as he's trying to force himself to compute the odds of her walking away without him, that he was built to be wrong. For the first time, that's a comforting thought, at least in the nanosecond before he realizes it means he's doomed to second-guess her even if she does keep him around. 

_ Still, though,  _ he thinks, gazing out at the facility as her thumb drifts back and forth over his shell,  _ this is nice. _


	11. Seeing It Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little late up this week, thanks for your patience and as always thank you for reading :*

The human gets up after a few minutes, presumably having caught her breath.  _ She’s leaving without me,  _ Wheatley thinks idly, left without enough time to really panic before she scoops him up with the gun. They keep moving. There’s another door. It opens for her as she approaches it, and on the other side, there’s light and foliage. 

"Is that…?"

The outside world.

The human steps toward it. The door shuts. The room shudders around them.

“Oh no.”

The human paces the room, looking for a way out. The doors won’t open. Wheatley’s optic darts from wall to wall as mechanical rumbling echoes.

“I’m-- I’m not detecting any access ports. I don’t know what’s happening. You know this wasn’t me, right?”

Wheatley takes the lack of any kind of reprisal on her part as a yes. 

The room stops moving. The panels that make up the ceiling and walls fold open, giving way to the vast chamber of GLaDOS' lair. She gazes down at them, impassive, hollow. The human braces her portal gun in both hands and stands ready. 

"Hello, old friend."

Thin red beams of light converge on them from every corner of the room.

"I'm not in the mood for catching up, so I'll make this quick. Goodbye."

The turrets' empty magazines click. Wheatley scans the room, watching them catch fire and explode one after the other.

GLaDOS' body sways back and forth, agitated. 

"I see. You're intent on wasting my time and, of significantly greater relative proportions given your estimated lifespan, yours. That's fine. It doesn't make a difference to me." There's a soft mechanical click. "You can die slowly."

For a moment, no one says anything. Wheatley glances at the human, who as far as he can tell, remains entirely in control of her faculties. So far, so good.

"I hate you."

"Warning:" Announces an automated voice, "central core is eighty percent corrupt."

"Here we go." Wheatley murmurs. 

"Alternate core detected. To initiate a core transfer, please deposit substitute core in receptacle."

Wheatley looks up at the human and shakes his eye emphatically. "Don't. Don't do that."

She doesn't. 

"Well," GLaDOS says, "now what's your plan?"

The human waves the portal gun at her. 

"What?" GLaDOS asks.

"What?" Wheatley agrees, turning over to look at the human. "Are you-- are you  _ threatening _ her with me?"

The human brandishes him again, edging closer. Wheatley flips back over to check on GLaDOS and thinks he sees her jerk back in fear. 

"That's not a good idea and you know it." She insists. "You're not stupid. You're bluffing." 

The human steps closer to the core transfer port.

"Stop that. Get away from there. I  _ know _ you haven't thought this through."

Another step. 

"Um, just to be clear," Wheatley asserts, "you can solve this problem by giving us an elevator to the surface. Get rid of both of us. One fell swoop."

"You stay out of this."

"Sorry."

The human stomps her foot. 

"Wait, was that-- no, you're right! We're a team!"

Wheatley levels his gaze at GLaDOS' burning golden optic, then drops it to the lower edge of her head when direct eye contact proves too intense. 

"As-- as team representative, I-I'm laying down our terms. Either you call an elevator to the surface, or…"

He glances back at the human, resolute. Her steadfast grey eyes steel his nerves.

"Or we initiate a core transfer."


	12. Fireproof

"Fine." GlaDOS hisses. "Unlike you, I'm not unreasonable." 

The lift descends to meet them. 

"Here's your elevator. Please place all proprietary Aperture Science testing materials on the floor before you leave, including the Aperture Science Long Fall Boot, the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device, and the Aperture Science Personality Construct."

The human levels her gaze at her.

"No? Well, it was worth a shot. After all, your bone marrow is technically considered property of the Enrichment Center as well. Good luck finding a lawyer out there to enforce it, though."

Wheatley looks back at the human, keeping his voice down. "Is-- this _is_ what you wanted, right?" 

She turns around and steps toward the elevator. Wheatley keeps an eye out behind her, as if he's going to catch GLaDOS before she pulls the rug out from under them. His optic goes wide.

"Wait."

To his moderate surprise, the human stops short, glancing down at him.

"What is it now?" GLaDOS groans.

"This- this isn't right." Wheatley stammers, optic flicking between GLaDOS and the human. "It's too easy. She'd never just let you go like that. There's nothing to stop her from-- from breaking the elevator and sending us plummeting into oblivion, and you clawed your way back up last time-- both of you-- I don't doubt you'll be fine, but, _I_ was running things and you had each other at least, you didn't go down there with _me--"_

"In the event you've reconsidered taking the ball with you, I invite you to reconsider that reconsideration."

"As long as she's in charge you're not going to be safe. You have to plug me in."

GLaDOS stiffens. "What?"

"I mean--" Wheatley shakes his optic. "You don't have to do anything. Obviously. But I'm- I'm thinking about it, and we can't trust-- I mean I don't think we _should_ trust her when she's in control of the whole bleeding facility!"

"You are _kidding._ Listen. Is this metal ball really making a cogent argument for why he should be in charge?"

"Is it dangerous? Yes! But I know you can handle it. It'll be different this time, I'll-- I'll know what's coming and…"

_Why would that make a difference?_

"...You know not to use the elevator this time around." Wheatley nods. "So you can-- you can find another way out and I'll… I'll be here. All that matters is that you get out. Maybe you can send me a postcard from outside, so I know you're okay. Um-- maybe shouldn't put your location on it. Obviously. Wouldn't want me tracking you down."

The human steps into the elevator. Wheatley freezes, optic aperture pulled to a pinpoint. 

"What are you doing?!"

The human looks at him. Her stony gaze is the answer-- she's making the call, and she's kind enough to take him with her. For the first time in his life, Wheatley wishes he were smaller, painfully aware of his weight on the gun in her arms.

"I-- um-- sorry. You're the boss."

The doors shut. Wheatley braces himself for the fall, but the elevator rises, and keeps rising until GLaDOS disappears beneath the edge of the ceiling. 

_It's really happening._ Wheatley thinks, optic shut, daring himself to believe it. _We're getting out._

And then the elevator stops. Wheatley cracks his optic open. That was a short trip. Were they really that close to the surface?

"Is-- is it meant to be this dark?" He asks, without thinking about it. "Maybe it's nighttime. I've heard there's some sort of day-night cycle-- Hold on. I'll get the light."

He switches the flashlight on and looks around. They're still in the elevator. Smooth metal walls surround them. The doors are closed. 

"Okay, um-- I'm-- I'm almost sure I've missed something, because the impression I'm getting is that we're trapped."


End file.
